


hold too tight (don't let me)

by Mellomailbox



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Charles, BAMF Raven, Baby Mutants, Canon-Typical Violence, Charles you will be sad, Child Abuse, Depression, Domestic Violence, Gen, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Period-Typical Homophobia, Poor Raven, Prompt Fill, Secret Mutant Ficathon, Telepathy, Telepathy Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Charles takes Raven in as a child, he expects to have a happy childhood devoid of loneliness.</p><p>Neither of them expect the Markos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold too tight (don't let me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paper (Aimz)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aimz/gifts).



Raven was starving. She could feel the telltale signs of her stomach acid eroding her stomach lining, the pain and constriction of her abdominal muscles. She knew from experience that she wouldn’t die—she was remarkably hard to kill—and that if she didn’t eat something soon she’d be in immense pain and have trouble keeping a form.

Raven found that masquerading as a young white male tended to afford her the least amount of attention, so she approached the row of well decorated houses looking like as close of an approximation of a young male servant that she could make in her current state.

She climbed over the fence when she was sure that nobody was watching, falling into the perfectly manicured backyard with a grunt and a ripple of scales. She bit her lip, willing her form to keep, and skirted around to the back where she knew the servant’s doors were often located.

She didn’t need to look around to know what this place would look like; all of these estates were pretty much the same layout, with the same sort of help who left the same shortcuts in the same places. There was a flower pot by the servant’s door just as she knew there’d be, and her scales rippled again at the effort of moving it with the strength of malnourished six year old arms.

She could just make out the key past the black spots that were dancing over her vision, and she let her form fall as soon as she was in the house, taking a few deep breaths to make sure that she didn’t pass out.

As soon as she regained her vision she looked around, instinct telling her that the kitchen could be found by taking the hallway to the left.

Her instincts proved right, and she was completely silent as she approached the monstrous fridge, curling her ankles and walking on the sides of her feet so that there would be no telltale clacking of scales on the pristine marble flooring.

The fridge door made a loud sticking noise as she opened it, and suddenly the room was bathed in a bright light, her eyes automatically adjusting even as he listened for the telltale signs of someone approaching. She was so distracted by the disappointing contents of the refrigerator—maybe the servants kept leftovers in their quarters?—that she almost didn’t notice the soft slap of skin against marble announcing a child’s presence.

In a moment she was in the form of the woman hanging in a portrait on the wall, presumably the mother of the boy who rounded the corner, and it was adrenalin that had her smiling serenely, form steady as she tried not to eye the baseball bat hanging from the loosely curled fingers of the boy. If she needed to she could grab it faster than he could react, smack him over the head and run.

He was speaking to her, and without even realizing that she’d been listening she answered, “I didn’t mean to scare you, darling, I was just getting a snack.” She made an educated guess on the pitch of voice she should be using based on the age and race of his mother in the photograph as well as the boy’s own accent, but he froze, eyeing her speculatively enough that she was worried she had gotten it wrong.

He wasn’t acting fearful, though, and the bat was still loose in his hand, so she leaned down and braced her hands on her knees, asking, “What’s the matter?” and in a fit of desperation, “I’ll make you a hot chocolate.” That was what mothers did, right? Surely he’d cave, want to curl up on a stool at the kitchen counter with a cup of hot chocolate and his mummy at his side.

She tensed the moment he questioned her, though, and was ready to lunge for the bat when she felt a pressure in her head accompanied with the boy’s voice.

She wanted to cry out but she was frozen, her instincts firing everywhere, not equipped with how to deal with this kind of threat. She could feel him rutting around in her brain, and she was suddenly so scared, heart pounding as phantom fingers pressed down against the imaginary button that controlled her power. She wanted to fight him, but more than that she wanted him out. >> _Please get out. I’ll show you, I promise._ <<

To her surprise he acquiesced, and she got the sense that he already knew what she was about to show him. She could still lunge for the bat, she knew, still had a chance of knocking him unconscious, but she was scared and tired and hungry, and so she slowly let her mask drop, feeling her body shift down to her actual size, shyly averting her eyes at the boy’s unabashed staring.

He grinned when she finished, and she flitted her eyes back over to him, pursing her lips as she asked, “you’re not scared of me?”

He took a step forward and answered, “I always believed I couldn’t be the only one in the world.” He smiled, and laughed, as if they had met on the playground and had found a hobby that they had in common rather than discovered that they both had superhuman abilities, and Raven could only stare incredulously as he extended his hand in introduction.

“Charles Xavier.”

“I’m Raven.”

She could feel him still rummaging around in her head, and she was still scared, even as she tried not to be. She barely registered his offer, smiling weakly, trying to find a way to get him out, and as wonderful as it sounded, the idea of being full and warm and loved, Raven knew that it was an impossible promise.

Charles turned his back as he gestured for her to follow him, and in a split second decision she lunged for the bat where it was still in his loosely curled grip, fingers just brushing the smooth wood before everything went black.

\---

It was their one year anniversary of becoming siblings, and Charles thought that the little silver necklace with a baseball bat charm dangling from its chain was quite clever, honestly.

“In honor of the day you tried to kill me for rescuing you,” He quipped, laughing as she smacked him over the head with a pillow. She was snuggled up at his side, sitting cross-legged on his bed and blue scales making a soft rasping noise as they caught at the delicate softness of her fleece pajamas.

“I did not try and kill you!” She denied indignantly, shoving the pillow extra hard in his face even as he protested in pain, a muffled “Ow, ow! Feather in my eye, feather in my eye, Raven!” She finally pulled it back, unapologetic even as Charles rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye sourly, hiding the jewelry box behind his back and swatting at her hands.

Raven had the box in her grasp in no time, and was reverently stroking the necklace as she sent him a brief tendril of contrition at hurting his eye, even in play. “How’d you get this, anyways? It’s not like a jeweler would sell to a kid, even one as pompously dressed and accented as you.”

“Ha-ha.” Charles responded dryly, and settled the pillow behind him so that he could lean back, leaving room for Raven if she wanted to sleep in his bed tonight. “I asked mother to get it for you. She thinks it’s your birthday.” Charles had realized that he didn’t actually know Raven’s birthday, but after that first night she had made him promise not to go into her head without her permission if he wanted her to stay.

She knew that she was being manipulated by the unasked question following the pointed way he said ‘birthday’, though, and she smirked, tossing herself into his arms and wiggling into his side as she lifted the necklace above her face, watching the bat dangle.

“It’s fitting, such nice jewelry, you know.”

“How’s that?” Charles asked, trying not to let his curiosity show, and she turned her face to look up at him, holding back mirth as if sharing a joke with herself.

“Because if it _were_ my birthday I’d be sixteen.”

“Bollocks!” Charles shouted, and she mentally slapped him away as he tried to check her honesty, physically slapping him when he didn’t back off. That worked, and he gave her the smallest of apologies before pressing on. “You’re lying.”

He’d have known if she was that old, he was sure of it. She smiled again, teeth blindingly white, and agreed, “Yes, I’m lying.”

“I knew it.” He huffed, but the look on her face, the humor, had him wondering, and he rolled onto his side, watching as she did the same so that they were eye-to-eye. “Or are you?”

She cackled, and brought the necklace to her chest, curling closer to him and whispering, “You’ll never know, muahaha.” It was so very childish, and Charles wouldn’t break her trust by checking her mind while she slept even if the not-knowing burned him. She could be so very wise, easily keeping up with him and his own genius, but at the same time playful as a child. And her mutation could mean anything; they’d established that she could heal shockingly quickly, and she was very athletic, and had the instincts of a grown survivalist.

Raven hissed sleepily at him when he tried to take the necklace from its captivity in her fist, and he let go, settling down for sleep himself as he hoped she wouldn’t snap the delicate chain in the night.

He could live not knowing, he decided, as long as she was happy. As long as they were both happy, he amended, radiating contentment as her hand found his and squeezed, as close to a ‘thank you’ as she’d ever give. After all, he was sure that this was the first of many happy years together.

\---

Raven had the misfortune of meeting Cain Marko before Charles did.

Raven also had the misfortune of not knowing that they were going to meet.

Charles was busy in the study meeting their new stepfather, Kurt, for the first time. Neither of them knew that he existed until that morning, and judging from the lack of telepathic warning from Charles, she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been told they’d have a new brother.

Cain had the misfortune of meeting Raven while she was playing with the late Brian Xavier’s old punching bag in his workout room _._

One moment she was seeing how hard she could kick it, unabashedly blue as she usually was when it was just her and Charles, and the next she had her foot on Cain’s throat, eight year old body strong enough to hold his massive bulk to the floor easily _._

His eyes were as wild as she was sure hers were, and she was about to mentally call for Charles to help when she saw the most disgusting grin she’d ever been faced with curl over his face.

It was one that she’d become very familiar with.

Cain’s hands stilled where they had grabbed her ankle, and with a start she realized she was still blue. In a moment she shifted back to her blonde form, and she could feel Cain’s breath hitch from underneath where her foot was pressed against his windpipe.

“Here’s the deal,” She said, her voice strong even as her heart beat wildly. “You’re never going to tell anyone about what you just saw. Do you want to know why?”

Cain tried to lift his chin and she pressed down harder with her foot, trying to ignore the voice in her head telling her to ease up. It sounded like Charles.

“I’m Sharon Xavier’s daughter, that’s why. Nobody would believe you, and whichever of your parents work for her would be fired and you’d be sent off to the loony hospital. Is that what you want?”

His expression was far smugger than she had anticipated it would be, but before she could press down threateningly with her foot again she heard voices coming down the hallway and backed off, skirting around him so that she was in the hallway and facing Charles, his mother and Kurt when they rounded the corner.

Charles’ eyes were wide, taking in Cain where he was sitting up on the floor, eyes not leaving Raven even as she skipped over to Charles and took his hand.

Charles quickly schooled his expression, entering her mind the moment that she opened it for him.

“What are you doing on the floor, Cain?” Kurt bit out angirly, even as Charles asked, >> _What did you do?_ <<

Raven’s heart was still pounding, and she answered Kurt instead of Charles, voice saccharine as she fidgeted cutely with the hem of her dress. “We were playing and Cain was trying to show me how to kick like a boy and I fell and knocked him over. I’m very uncoordinated, and I’m so sorry Mr. Marko!”

Cain only nodded and coughed once in affirmation, standing and brushing off his pants as Kurt grimaced at Raven’s accent, turning to Sharon. “You didn’t tell me that your daughter was adopted.”

Sharon blinked, and Raven could feel the alarm radiating off of Charles and grabbed his hand again, squeezing in warning at the projection.

“She’s not,” Sharon started hazily, and Charles brought his hand up to his temple, making like he was itching his hairline, and his mother’s eyes glossed over completely as she continued. “She was born here and never had a chance to live in England like Charles and I did, darling. Her tutors and nannies were American, it’s only natural that she’d have that accent.”

Kurt seemed to accept this and turned back to them, Charles quickly dropping his hand and trying not to bristle at Cain’s stare.

The realization that Cain wasn’t a servant’s kid hit Raven just before Kurt began the introductions amongst the children, and she felt sick at the realization that her threat to him was completely empty. Charles shook Cain’s hand and managed not to wince at his crushing grip, muttering an almost sincere-sounding “I’m thrilled to have a brother now. I’m sure we’ll be quite close.”

“I’m sure we’ll have great fun.” Cain answered throatily, and Raven was equally smug at the obvious pain he felt while speaking and terrified at the tone of voice. It was very much a threat, and it was also the first time he’d spoken, voice deep and dangerous like his father’s.

His eyes met hers and she swallowed thickly as his eyebrows arched, opening his arms to her as Sharon tutted a vacant, “Oh, how sweet.” Raven was frozen in terror, and only moved when Charles pushed lightly at the small of her back, expression thunderous and eyes not leaving Cain’s even as Cain’s stayed locked on Raven.

>> _It’s alright, little bird, I’ll stop him if he tries anything._ <<

>> _Don’t patronize me._ << She thought back hotly, and strode confidently into Cain’s arms, indignation pushing aside her fear. He squeezed her hard enough to pop her spine, and she squeezed back harder, grinning viciously into his shoulder as he let out a soft whimper, ribs surely bruised.

He let go and she stepped back, Kurt’s attention already back on Sharon. He parted with an absent, “Go play, children,” that would shortly be his favorite dismissal, and soon the two adults were out of sight.

The moment that they were gone Raven had her hand around Cain’s throat and his back against the wall, teeth bared aggressively.

Cain was ready this time, though, and he kneed her in the stomach, hand in her blonde curls and ready to pull just as Charles said, “ _Stop._ ”

They both did, and Raven’s eyes were gold and radiating betrayal as he stepped into her line of sight, back to Cain.

“Raven, I’ll let you go if you promise not to hurt him. I’m going to try and wipe his memory, but if he’s hurt I won’t be able to hide that from Kurt and Mother.”

“Fine.” Raven bit out, and Charles let her go so that she could slide out of Cain’s frozen grip, momentarily changing the length of her hair so that it would disappear from Cain’s hold before returning it to its normal length.

Charles approached Cain now, finger still pressed to his temple and Cain’s eyes terrified for the first time since they’d met.

“ _You won’t remember anything before this. You’ve just met Raven and I for the first time._ ”

Cain’s eyes glazed briefly, like Sharon’s had, before he blinked them open, and Charles slid his fingers from his head and smiled beatifically at him. “Marvelous to meet you, Cain. It seems we’re brothers now.”

Cain still looked confused, but he snarled, spit out “fairy” and shoved Charles out of his way before storming off down the hall, presumably to find his father.

Charles turned to where Raven was still seething at him, and meant to say “Well, he’s sure to be trouble,” but only managed a breathy “well” before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out.

\---

Raven had never been as scared as she was at the sight of Charles’ crumpled body that day, and even after dragging him into the nearest room and tossing a cup of water on his face, he didn’t wake up for over an hour. After that he complained of the worst headache of his life, surmising that he must have over exerted himself and hushing Raven’s cries against his chest.

That night as Raven snuck into his room for the first time in months, she decided that she wouldn’t let Charles fight her battles anymore. She slipped beneath his covers, curling easily into his arms and allowed herself one last moment of weakness before she vowed to never show such vulnerability again. She wouldn’t ever make Charles push his powers like that again, couldn’t bear it if she lost him like her family.

Charles whimpered next to her, brows creasing in pain, and she swallowed back her tears, whispering, “Go to sleep, Charles. I’ll protect you.”

\---

Cain was as much and more of a problem than either of them had anticipated, and to their surprise so was Kurt.

Cain’s dogged interest in Raven never ceased, and Raven was exhausted from constantly having to use her powers. The anniversary of the night they met, and consequently, her unofficial thirteenth birthday was coming up that weekend, and she groaned loudly as she let the blonde façade drop, flinging herself atop of Charles’ bed dramatically. Even after seven years some things never changed.

“I can’t keep this up.” She complained for the hundredth time, and Charles quickly slammed his door shut and locked up, hissing, “Raven! You’ll be seen!”

Charles was sixteen now, and had begun attending a private high school for intellectually gifted kids in the city even as Raven continued to be taught by tutors within the mansion. The hours they were separated left Charles stressed, and Raven still insisted that he stay out of her head, so he couldn’t even check in on her during the day.

Raven rolled her eyes from her spot on his bed, red hair splayed out behind her as she kicked her feet restlessly. “Who cares?” She asked, and Charles stopped unbuttoning his uniform jacket, lips pursed.

Raven expected the usual lecture he was sure, but instead Charles took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. Sisters were a pain, and she was intentionally trying to rile him up because she was frustrated and needed to vent that energy somehow.

Instead of getting upset he settled next to her on his bed, pinching the soft skin under her arm where he knew she was ticklish. She squealed and rolled herself into a sitting position next to him, stopping mid-retaliation at his somber expression.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, and laid her fingers lightly on the crook of his elbow where it rested on his knees. His hands were clasped in front of him, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes, jaw working as he lamented over whatever was bothering him.

He finally gave in, and his shoulders slumped, sorrowful eyes meeting Raven’s.

“There’s something that I need to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”

She was so young, eyes wide and fingers gripping tighter onto his arm. She shouldn’t have to deal with this.

“I saw something in Cain’s mind, Raven. I know you’re not as young as you look, that you know about the real world.”

Her jaw locked, and she leaned away from Charles, looking at the wall instead of him. Her hair was framing her face in tangled tufts, and she was beautiful, even while pouting.

“Cain wants to hurt me.” Her voice was cold, and they both heard the implication.

“Yes.” Charles responded, and her shoulders tensed at the confirmation, so he continued quickly, making the decision without even thinking about it. ‘But it’s alright, Raven! I’ll protect you. I’ll erase it from his mind.”

Raven whirled on him at that, eyes wild, and punched him in the arm. “No!”

“What?”

“No! I can’t let you—I’m not a baby, Charles! I can fight my own battles. I’ve been doing it for longer than you’ve been my brother.”

Charles gaped, mouth opening and closing, and pushed his bangs out of his face in frustration. “But Raven, I don’t think you understand the—“

“Of course I bloody understand, Charles.” She spit, mocking his accent and curling her fists again. “You don’t think that I know how to take care of myself. Well, I do.”

Her eyes were brimming, and she punched him again, hard enough to make his fingers tingle.

“Raven, stop that!”

“No!” She shouted back, and he rolled off of the bed before she could hit him again, her fist swinging wildly. “You don’t even know what I can do, Charles!”

“Fine, fine,” He answered calmly, hands out with his palms facing Raven even as she approached him. “You can take care of yourself little bird, I get it. You don’t need to hit me to make the point.”

“Don’t call me little bird. I’m not a little bird, I’m a predator and I’m going to show you how to fight.”

She jabbed him in the chest with her index finger, and he could feel something brewing in the back of her mind, but he kept out, fearful of more retaliation.

“You know how to fight?” He asked instead, and tried not to see her little twelve year old body as that of a child. She was six when he took her in, how could she possibly know how to fight?

She made a strangled sound of frustration and raised her hands, and Charles covered his head, half laughing to dispel the tension as he placated her. “Alright, alright! Show me how to fight. I’ll show you how to control your mutation better around Cain.”

Raven opened her mouth as if to protest, but before she could the bell announcing dinner rang, and all of the energy left the room.

“We’ll start now.” Charles said to the silence, and Raven nodded.

\---

Raven knew Charles, and she knew that if she didn’t set Cain straight once and for all he would push himself like he did last time, erasing Cain’s memories and potentially killing himself in the process. This wouldn’t be a few minutes, this would be years of obsession and torment and memories. She couldn’t let that happen. Just the memory of Charles’ body slumped to the ground, blood dripping from his nose, was all the motivation that she needed to seek Cain out, hand shooting out to grab his shirt as he rounded the corner.

She threw him into the closest empty room, an unused guest bedroom by the looks of it, and shut the door.

“What the fuck—“ Cain snarled, and made to grab her, but in a moment Raven had twisted around, clocking him in the face with the back of her heel in a powerful kick.

She heard his nose break and swallowed the nausea. Charles was making her weak. She’d spent three gritty years on the streets, learning to fight off anyone who tried to attack her. She always wore an adult form, and adults needed to know how to fight, didn’t they?

She picked it up quickly, probably due to her mutation if Charles’ theories had ant merits, and she used one of the moves she’d learned to twist Cain over her shoulder as he lunged at her, throwing him against the wall and grimacing where the blood from his nose had smeared onto her floral dress.

All it took was one long step forward and a quick flick of her leg and she had her foot pressed against his throat in a parody of their first meeting. He was considerably bigger and stronger now, and when he grabbed her pale ankle and tried to throw her off he almost succeeded. She was still a mutant, though, and still stronger than a human, so she merely pushed down harder, baring her teeth at him as if feral.

“Cain Marko, I am only going to tell you this once. If you lay a finger on me I will kill you. If you try and run crying to Mother or Kurt I will kill you. Do you understand?”

He swallowed, and she was about to continue her threats when he lessened his grip on her thigh, cupping the muscle and stroking it.

She was suddenly overwhelmed with revulsion and wrenched herself away, stepping backwards and away from Cain even as he grinned, standing and looming over her easily.

“What’s the matter, little birdie?” He sang acidly, curling his shoulders forward to seem more intimidating, and oh god, that was Charles’ nickname, it was supposed to be safe and warm and affectionate not— _this._

“Stay away from me, Cain.” She threatened, but her voice wavered at the way he was eyeing her hungrily, and oh no, he was licking his lips as he crowded her against the dresser.

“Or what?”

He was inches away now, and Raven kicked him as hard as she could between his legs, running from the room as he howled in agony and sprinting to her bedroom.

She shut the door behind her, chest heaving, and slid to the ground, the rasping of her scales as she dropped her disguise the only sound in the room.

She could hear Kurt’s angry voice through the door and swallowed thickly, reminding herself.

This is for Charles.

\---

Charles had bolted from the study the moment that he felt Cain’s thoughts focus in on Raven, throwing the door to the west end of the house open and rushing through without looking, only to run face first into Kurt’s chest.

Kurt had always been malicious towards him, had always thought nasty things and fantasized about hurting him, but Charles had never given him the opportunity. Not until now, at least.

In a moment Kurt had his fist in the back of Charles’ jacket collar, glaring at him furiously as he pointed angrily at where a bruised and bloody Cain stood next to him, towel pressed to his nose.

“Cain told me what you and your sister did, you ungrateful little shits!” Some of the hairs on the back of his neck were caught in Kurt’s grip, and he hissed in pain as they were pulled from his skin. “Ganging up on my son?! Not in my house. I’m taking Cain to get his nose looked at and then you’ll get a lashing from me. So will your sister, you disgusting brats, and I’ll make sure you never disrespect me or my son again.” His breath was foul and his anger vehement, and Charles just barely gleaned the happenings from earlier from Cain’s gleeful mind before breathing a painful, ‘Yes sir, I understand sir. But—“

“Don’t you fucking—“ Kurt started, pulling tighter at where his grip had moved to the hair on the back of his head, before Charles spoke over him, fingers going to his temple,

“ _But it was only me, not Raven who attacked Cain._ ”

Cain sputtered, a muffled “That’s not true” that was ignored by Kurt, who responded monotonously, “yes, that’s right. No way a girl could do that to a boy, don’t be ridiculous Cain.”

Charles made a show of cowering in fear when Kurt threw him against the wall, attention completely on Charles now as he shook off the haze of Charles’ telepathy. Charles held on to the attention, sharpening it until all of Kurt’s thoughts were on him, not a hint of Raven.

“Cain, go have Sharon take you to the hospital while I deal with her offspring.”

The threat of violence seemed to be enough to satisfy him, and Cain grinned through the blood on his face, truly gruesome, and gave Charles a two fingered salute before shutting the heavy oak doors behind him.

Charles was alone with Kurt now, and before he could get a finger to his temple Kurt’s fist connected with Charles’ face, sending his head whipping into the wall with a sickening snap.

Charles moaned and slid to the ground, blinking through the red haze as he struggled to lift his hand again. Kurt couldn’t know what Charles was trying to do, but he kicked his hand away and then kicked him in the face anyways. Charles did cry out that time, and he fell to the floor, screaming again when Kurt stomped on his hands.

Kurt was spewing curses and hate at him, all of his anger and malice and years of perverted longing for violence finally realized, and Charles resigned himself to the beating, starting to shut himself down even as he saw Raven round the corner.

His heart stopped, and he swallowed a sob, making eye contact with her golden eyes, and thought strongly, _> > **No.**_ <<

She didn’t even have the time to look hurt, turning on her heel and running back to her room before Kurt had a chance to see her, unable to fight Charles’ compulsion.

She would hate him for it, he knew, but he was glad of it anyways. He couldn’t stop Kurt hurting him, but apparently his love for his sister was enough to pull the last dredges of his power up, and he shut himself down with a satisfied smile and the image of Kurt reaching for his neck.

\---

Raven refused to speak to him for weeks, even as she dressed his wounds and crawled into bed with him every night like when they were children, petting his hair and keeping an eye out for Kurt.

It didn’t hurt that Cain hadn’t guessed where she was running off to yet.

\---

Something about Raven turning thirteen had Cain in an obsessive lust, and even though he was a simpleton, he was clever when one day he shouted at her back as she ran from him, “If I can’t have you I’ll take your faggot brother instead!”

\---

She made a point to let him catch her sometimes after that, let the chase stay thrilling so he wouldn’t feel the need to go after Charles. Cain never got far when he caught her, just roughed her up enough and groped her a bit before she beat him back.

Her fighting back only seemed to encourage him, and she would have been concerned that Charles hadn’t noticed their demented game of cat and mouse if she wasn’t so relieved.

\---

Charles was busy thwarting Kurt. Much like his son, now that Kurt had gotten the taste of the violence he craved he came looking for it whenever he could. His mind wanted Raven, since he couldn’t hurt Sharon, but every time Charles managed to divert his attention to himself instead. He mostly got away unscathed, thanks to his telepathy, but every once in a while Kurt surprised him.

He would be concerned that Raven hadn’t noticed his bruises if he wasn’t so relieved.

\---

They were nearing Charles’ seventeenth birthday now, and both he and Raven had become experts at lying to each other.

They were sitting on the edge of the outdoor pool, kicking each other passively with water as they talked, and it was almost like before. Raven had her blonde hair stuffed into a swim cap, swimsuit just this side of inappropriate, but if Charles noticed for once he decided not to say. Charles himself was wearing a t-shirt so that he wouldn’t burn, bony shoulders nudging Raven whenever she managed a good splash.

“What are we going to do when you go to Oxford?” She asked at one point, and Charles felt his heart stop briefly at being called out.

“What do you mean?” He tried, and Raven gave him a pointed look that was less intimidating than intended accompanied with slightly burned cheeks.

“Don’t play dumb, Charles.”

Charles blew his cheeks out in exasperation, and it had the intended effect when Raven couldn’t help it as her lips twitched at his puffed out cheeks. “Don’t try and distract me, either.” She giggled, and Charles leaned over to let the air out noisily against her cheek in a raspberry, Raven squealing and smacking at his damp shirt in protest. “Charles! I’m trying to be serious.”

Charles leaned back, eyes twinkling and wet curls plastered against his forehead, and made as if contemplating. “Well, I know there’s a nice Catholic school for girls in the city…”

Raven looked scandalized. “Don’t even joke!”

“You’re telling me what I can’t do an awful lot today, little bird.”

Raven pouted, and suddenly it was Charles’ face pouting back at him. “Maybe I should make your decisions for you, since I obviously know better.”

Charles’ face had gone pale, though, and before Raven could admonish him for his paranoia he grabbed her arm and threw her in the pool, jumping in after her.

>> _Raven, turn back!_ <<

Raven didn’t listen, was too busy breaking the surface and coughing the water out of her lungs, still wearing Charles’ face, and suddenly Cain had rounded the corner.

His face turned red, eyes wild as he looked at Raven, and barked, scandalized, “Charles! What the _fuck_ are you wearing?”

Raven looked down, and she could feel Charles’ distress from where he was still under the water, hiding beneath where they had been too lazy to pull the protective tarp all the way off of the pool. She was in a perfect replica of Charles’ body, but her swimsuit was real, not a construct of her mutation, so it looked like Charles was wearing the black, form fitting, midriff showing suit and women’s swim cap.

She lifted her eyes back up to Cain, but he was shaking his head and looked nauseous. “I’m telling my Father.”

“No, Cain, wait!” Raven called, but he had already turned tail and ran, and the moment he was gone Charles burst from beneath the tarp, gasping for breath.

Raven turned back to her blonde form, still frozen and staring at the space where Cain had been moments ago. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but she did whisper, “I’m so, _so_ sorry Charles.”

She could hear the wet splash as Charles crawled out of the pool, coughing a bit, before coming to stand behind her. She turned to look at him, pushing her remorse at him, but his eyes were furious.

Charles pushed her remorse right back at her and she sucked in a breath as if slapped.

“No.” Charles bit out, voice cold but steady. “You don’t get to pick and choose when to accept my telepathy when it suits you, Raven. If you’d listened to me this wouldn’t have happened!”

That wasn’t really fair, she thought. “Why should you get to use your powers if I can’t use mine? Anyways, it was an accident.”

“That’s not the bloody point!” Charles shouted, and threw his hands in the air so that he wouldn’t be tempted to grab her. “The point isn’t about _fairness-“_

Raven made a noise at that, indignant.

“Oh yes, I was in your head, do get over it for once. The point isn’t fairness, Raven, it’s _self-preservation._ I have been warning you and begging you to listen to me, and you never do and _look what’s happened now._ Cain is going to go tell Kurt that I’m a bloody queer now, and how do you think that’s going to affect my getting to Oxford?”

He was shouting, and he’d never shouted at Raven before, but he couldn’t stop, he was just so _angry._ And a tad humiliated, which is why when she said tearfully, “Well, you are, aren’t you?” his first instinct was to keep yelling and ignore it.

But behind the tears he could see a steely resolve, and he couldn’t help his curiosity when he stopped, took a deep breath, and asked, “What do you mean?”

Raven saw her opportunity and took it. She pulled her shoulders back and locked her jaw, voice determined. “You’re a queer, Charles. You’re a queer and a mutant and I don’t see why you should have to hide it, why I should have to hide it, why _any of us_ should have to hide it.” She was raising her voice at him now, hands balled into fists, and she took a step forward. “Look, I’m sorry that I embarrassed you, but you shouldn’t be embarrassed.” Her eyes flashed yellow, and Charles could see the emotions running across her face; anger, indignation, fear, rebellion, before she finally settled on something gentle. She reached for his hand and forcibly uncurled his fist, twining their fingers.

“We’re both so much better, Charles. We shouldn’t have to be afraid. It’s not about self-preservation, because we have nothing to fear. Nobody can hurt us if we don’t want them to.”

Charles swallowed, and pulled his hand away, turning his back to Raven as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “That sort of thinking is going to get you killed, little bird.” He sounded so tired, and Raven fought back the hurt at his dismissal. She let her anger return, her fists tight at her sides again, and turned to storm back into the house.

She stopped at the door, hand on the frame, and hissed “You’re a fool and a coward, Charles,” before running from the door before she could see his reaction, the wet slaps of her feet deafening as she swallowed down her tears. Whether they were from anger or heartbreak she didn’t know.

She eventually slowed to a walk, the toes freezing against the cold marble floor. She wanted to go back to her room and change, but to so that she’d have to pass by Charles’ room, and she wasn’t sure if she could bear to see him yet without giving into the urge to punch him.

She was still ruminating, shifting back and forth and gripping his arms to keep from shivering, when she heard the familiar chill of Kurt’s bellow coming from down the hall. He was shouting for Charles, and Raven couldn’t fight her remorse at the raw fury in his voice. She believed everything that she had said to him, she really did, but she also knew that Charles’ chances of going to Oxford were in jeopardy if Kurt couldn’t be reasoned with.

She bit her lip, and eyed the door to the West library thoughtfully. Charles would surely try and appease Kurt, maybe even try and erase his memory, and both of those actions were dangerous for different reasons. Charles shouldn't have to apologize for who he was, and Raven was still terrified that he would hurt himself again if he tried manipulating memories.

But if he stood up to Kurt, perhaps he could finally have some respect.

She slipped into the library and made sure to shut the door, checking that there weren’t any servants in the room. Satisfied that she was alone she quickly stripped off the swimsuit, grimacing at the squelching sound it made as she dropped it onto the ground. She peeled off the swim cap and kicked them all behind a bookshelf, staring down at her pale, naked body.

She’d gotten lazy in her time with Charles, and had to actually focus on how to shift clothing, ultimately satisfied when a white button up, brown vest and khaki slacks appeared along with her replica of Charles’ body. She wished that there was a mirror she could see her handiwork in, but Kurt’s shouts were starting to fade, and she needed to make sure to catch him before he found the real Charles.

Raven stepped out of the room and called “Kurt! I’m down here.”

The shouting stopped, but was replaced with angry stomping, and that reminded Raven to shift a pair of brown leather shoes onto her feet moments before Kurt appeared.

His face was screwed into a snarl, teeth bared like an angry dog, and Raven opened her mouth without even knowing what she was going to say.

She never got the chance, because between one moment and the next Kurt grabbed her by the hair, opened the library door, and threw her in.

Her instincts had her twisting before she hit the floor, turning to face Kurt as she shouted in Charles’ fearful voice, “What are you doing?!”

Kurt slammed the door shut hard enough to shake the frame, and his face was so red she was surprised that he didn’t pass out from it. “You don’t get to talk to me, you disgusting faggot.”

He reached for his pants, and Raven had to focus on not letting her form waver as he slid out his belt, tone suddenly conversational and clashing with the unadulterated fury coloring his features.

“I’m going to punish you, and then you’re going to go see your mother. She’s going to tell you that we’re shipping you off to Atascadero State Hospital, where you’ll be out of my hair and as far from Cain and your sister as I can get you.”

Raven swallowed, fearful eyes on Kurt, and tried for confidence. “There’s nothing wrong with me, Kurt. I don’t need a Hospital.”

Kurt grinned, all malice, and snapped the belt between his hands. “Oh, but we both know that you do.”

Raven knew that she could fight off Kurt, knew that she could easily get away. He may be as big as Cain, and she now realized that he was as mean, but he was also slower and older. If she could outrun Cain she could outrun Kurt.

But then what?

Kurt would just run after her, possibly find the real Charles, and beat him extra for running. Charles would have no idea what was going on, would be punished _again_ for Raven’s mistakes.

So she grit her teeth, closed her eyes, and made a decision.

\---

Charles could have sworn that he heard his mother calling for him, and quickly finished getting dressed in the pool house. His hair was still wet and he smelled like chlorine, but if she was calling for him rather than sending a servant surely it was important enough that she wouldn’t mind him not being in pristine condition.

He was still upset from his row with Raven, her words niggling at him enough that he sent out a hesitant tendril of his telepathy to see if she was all right.

He was met by an angry wall of _LEAVE ME ALONE_ that had him recoiling and biting his tongue to keep from tearing up at the rejection.

He needed to focus on the inevitably painful conversation that he was about to have with his mother, so he pushed Raven out of his thoughts, squared his shoulders, and strode confidentially down to his mother’s office.

He knocked lightly on the door, her tired “come in” allowing him entrance.

“Good evening, Mother.” He said, eyes pulled to the collection of glasses settled in front of her on her otherwise empty desk. His mother didn’t really have any business to attend to now that Kurt had taken over their assets, so she really used her office to read bad poetry and drink copious amounts of hard liquor and, yes, to mourn the loss of her late husband.

Her mind was like poison to Charles, so he rarely ever dove into it, choosing to cut himself off from her completely for the sake of his sanity.

“Charles,” She slurred, and pursed her lips together as if surprised at the lack of control. She cleared her throat, patted her perfectly coifed hair, as said. “Sit down, dear.”

Charles obliged, and set delicately into one of the cushioned maroon chairs set before his mother’s desk, hands settled primly on his lap as he waited for her to speak.

“So, Kurt and I have decided that in light of Cain’s…revelation,” She started, getting right to the point, “that we should send you to a Hospital for treatment.”

Charles was outraged, but he knew his mother so he held his tongue.

“You’ll spend the summer there for now, and if you haven’t been cured by the time fall starts you’ll stay until holidays are through.”

Charles swallowed thickly, throat tight, and forced himself to unclench his fingers from where they’d tightened on his pants. He’d taken the briefest of glimpses into his mother’s alcohol hazed mind and seen just exactly where they planned on sending him.

He hadn’t thought much of his mother for a while now, with the way she looked the other way in regards to Kurt’s abusive nature, but for her to know exactly the kind of misfortune that would befall her son in an institution like that was lower than he ever expected of her. He fought to control his voice when he asked, “And what will become of Raven?”

His mother blinked slowly before answering almost absently, “She’ll stay here, of course. Kurt has high hopes for her, and Cain is quite fond.”

“Whose idea was this, mother?” It was becoming more and more difficult to keep himself calm in the face of her indifference.

“That’s not relevant, dear. Just pack up your things and be ready to leave by tomorrow night.”

She reached for one of the decorative glass bottles at her desk, as much of a dismissal as he was going to get, and Charles thought about asking her to stop. He imagined begging her to reconsider, about crying and showing her that he was still her son, still needed her. He thought about getting angry, screaming until she was forced to see his point of view. He thought about going into her mind and changing it.

But he knew that none of it would make a difference. She was barely even here, was too broken from the loss of her husband to see what was right in front of her. She was constantly on the precipice of sanity, barely hanging by a single threat, and if Charles were to push that in any way, mentally or not, he’d cut it. And despite his mother’s apathy towards him, she was still his mother. He could care about her well being even if she wouldn’t care about his.

So instead of any of the things that he wanted to do or say, Charles stood, gave her one last look- she wasn’t even paying attention anymore, back to reading her awful poetry- and left.

They would run away, he decided.

It was simple, really, and Charles didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He’d take as many small valuables as he could, pack a small bag, and he and Raven would head for England. He’d never be able to attend Oxford without his family’s name and fortune to back him up, but as long as he and Raven were together and safe he couldn’t find himself caring.

The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. Raven could take the form of anyone that they needed, and Charles was sure that he could manipulate the minds of anyone who found them suspicious. They’d rent a flat in one of the cities; Charles could get a job and Raven could finish out school in England. She’d always wanted to travel, she’d love it.

Too enthusiastic to keep to himself, Charles reached out his mind for Raven, excited to share his plan, and he almost cried out at the pain he was met with.

Charles clutched his head and stumbled against the wall, suddenly feeling like he was covered in lacerations and bruises. For a dizzying moment he could see out of Raven’s eyes, and he could feel her pain and fear as a horrifyingly distorted face that he recognizes as Cain’s closed in on them before suddenly Raven is shouting “No!” and pushing him out of her head.

He almost retches when he comes back to himself, crouched against the wall, and he lets out a single gag before pounding the wall with his fist, ignoring the wetness on his face as he climbs to his feet. Charles sprinted down the hallway, heart pounding and not all second-hand from Raven’s terror. He recognized that feeling. It was the unique feeling of being hit with a leather strap repeatedly. It was a feeling he had become acquainted with, and it was a feeling that he never thought Raven would have to experience.

He grabbed the corner with one hand and used it for momentum to throw him into the next hall, his harsh breathing and slapping of leather soles the only sound until he started to hear muffled cries and shouts.

“ _Raven!_ ” He called, quickly locating the source of the sound. He could hear the low tones of someone else speaking harshly, and he threw himself at the library door, which was thankfully not locked.

Charles had never lost control of his telepathy like he did on that day.

Raven was on the ground next to an overturned bookshelf, body covered in red stripes and bruises that were already healing. She was completely naked, blood streaking her face and on her hands, and she was crying.

“Charles, please,” she sobbed, and he saw her form flicker before the achingly familiar rasp of her scales shifting brought her back to her blue form. Her golden eyes were watery and distant, and her shoulders shook in a sob she’d been clearly trying to hold in.

“What the-“ Cain started, and fell back from where he’d been crouched over Raven’s body. He had his pants around his ankles, and he was looking at Raven in terror, but Charles couldn’t care, all he could see was Raven sobbing and her blood on Cain’s hands, and he didn’t even need to bring a finger to his temple, didn’t even need to look at him.

He shared Raven’s gaze the entire time he tore apart Cain’s mind, all fury and despair, barely even noticing Cain’s howls of pain.

When Cain’s mind was sufficiently empty Charles dropped to his knees next to Raven, hands outstretched but hovering, hesitant to touch. Her expression crumpled and she reached for him, and in a moment he had her in his arms, body shaking as she wailed into his shoulder.

He didn’t know if she had intentionally dropped her mental shields or not, but he took the opportunity and saw everything;

Raven choosing to confront Kurt and instead taking a beating for Charles;

Raven lying on the ground in pain, unable to get up from the physical and emotional exhaustion of keeping Charles’ visage while simultaneously making sure to slow down her exceptional healing so as not to arouse Kurt’s suspicions.

Hearing Cain calling for her and just barely switching to her blonde form before he enters, but forgetting clothing in her exhausted state.

Cain pouncing on her, touching her and tearing some of her hair from her head, the source of the blood.

And Charles arriving before Cain could take it any further.

He could feel the way Raven had felt; relief at the sight of him, and overwhelming despair that she wouldn’t be able to protect him.

“I’m so sorry, Charles,” She sobbed into his chest, and Charles did have to swallow down bile at that. He hid his face in her hair and rocked her softly, whispering, “Hush, hush. It’s not your fault, none of this is your fault. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you. I should have never let this happen.”

That only made her cry harder, and Charles could see where it was fraying at her mind, all of the pain she’d been in trying to protect him.

“I’m sorry.” Charles whispered one more time, kissed her forehead, and snuffed out the entire thread of memory relating to any of this. Any pain from Cain or Kurt, any emotional hurt from Charles, any knowledge of what Kurt had been doing to Charles, and especially what had almost happened tonight was all gone in an instant.

Raven stopped crying, and lifted her head, confused even as her body shook from aftershock.

“Charles?”

With a touch to her head to put her to sleep, and he set her down gently on the carpet. Charles stood, and turned to Cain now. He was sitting numbly on the ground, expression vacant and mouth lolling open grotesquely. There was no higher brain activity, and Charles felt a spark of remorse that he shoved down. He’d deal with regrets later.

Right now, he had work to do.

\--

Charles flung out his power as he stormed back down towards his mother’s office, grimly pleased to find both she and Kurt were there. He couldn’t sense any violence, but he slid into Kurt’s brain just to be safe.

It was filled with satisfaction tinged with exhaustion and a deep boned, heavy sense of bliss. Charles gagged, and resisted the suddenly violent urge to snuff Kurt out right where he stood.

He would not become that sort of person.

So instead he pulled out just before slamming the heavy oak door open with no warning, his mother’s startled expression soon flitting to wonder then to pain. He caught the brief tendril of familiarity, saw her associating his determined expression with memories of Brian, and Charles brought a hand to his head.

“That’s enough of that,” He murmured, and she was suddenly face down on her desk, snoring softly and drink falling to the carpet with a soft thud and a clink as the glass rolled into the leg of the desk.

Kurt was looking at him in horror and rage, and the whiplash that going from unadulterated bliss to rage created made Charles stagger against the wall in dizziness.

Or maybe that was just from suddenly using the powers he’d been trying to hibernate for years.

“What the-“ Kurt choked it in a parody of Cain’s earlier reaction, and Charles would laugh if he didn’t want to cry. Kurt made to move towards Charles and Charles brought his fingers back to his temple with a frown.

“ _Don’t take another step.”_ Charles ordered, and he could feel the wild terror from Kurt as he struggled to move his body, helpless against Charles’ power. “ _Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to forget what it feels like to desire,”_ Charles started, disintegrating the threat of Kurt’s consciousness dealing with desire as he spoke, “ _You’re going to find where Cain fell in the library and brained himself on a bookshelf and take him to a Hospital, and you are never going to so much as look at or talk to me, Mother, or Raven again. Understood?_ ”

Kurt didn’t respond, as he couldn’t, and Charles pulled out of his mind with the visible sag of his shoulders. Kurt blinked, looked right over Charles and made his way out of the door towards the library.

Charles could feel the blackness seeping into his vision more than he could see it at this point, and he was almost too exhausted to turn to where his mother lay sleeping on her desk.

Charles only meant to turn his body towards her, but he ended up falling to his knees at her side, black spots swimming in his mind and his vision like a poison. With his last bit of energy he stroked her mind softly, moved her temperament the barest of inches away from where it currently was, and with the familiar hot wetness of blood running down his lip, he passed out on her lap.

\--

Charles came to a few hours later, and couldn’t help the painful sob at the pain flexing his telepathy caused. As quickly as he could he assessed that Raven and his mother were still asleep and that the Marko’s had left. Charles groaned, choked on a bit of congealed blood clogging the back of his throat, and struggled to his feet on shaking legs.

He glanced towards where his mother lay sleeping at the desk, his blood a dark spot on her peach skirt, before limping from the office and back down to the library.

\--

There was no investigation to Cain’s unexplained loss of brain activity. Kurt was the perfect father, constantly at Cain’s bedside and hardly ever home other than when absolutely necessary to deal with the company’s affairs.

Sharon’s depression took a turn for the worse, especially with Kurt’s unexplained distance, and she made the decision to send both Charles and Raven to her hometown in England where they would be safe and happy away from the stagnant atmosphere that had developed in the mansion. It was the last lucid decision she would make.

\--

Charles could feel the disconnect radiating from Raven as they unpacked their things in the tiny apartment they would share for the foreseeable future. She was happy, sure, and affectionate as always, but something was missing, something tangible and important. Charles had his theories, and his acceptance into Oxford’s genetics program meant that he would be able to test them discreetly, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt anything good since the night he’d absolutely, completely, and unequivocally abused his powers on his family. Cain would never wake again, Kurt was a shadow of a man, and his mother had passed away a few weeks before from heartbreak.

But worse than the knowledge that his mother and the Markos’ fate were his doing, worse than the sharp edged, constant guilt that such responsibility brought, was the fact that he’d also hurt Raven.

Sure, she didn’t remember any of the abuse she’d felt in their childhood, wouldn’t wake up screaming in fear at the image of Cain crawling over her body like Charles did, but that didn’t mean the emptiness that the memories had been replaced with was any better.

Charles couldn’t bring himself to brush her mind more than absolutely necessary anymore, because by erasing her memories he’d erased an essential part of their childhood together. And it was selfish and spoiled of him, but he couldn’t stand the knowledge that the soft, warm part of her mind that used to hold him was now hollow and tepid.

She loved him, always would, but it was the distant sort of love that one held for a cousin. Every day she warmed up a bit more, every good moment started to fill that hollow spot, but it didn’t change the fact that the relationship that they had wasn’t there anymore.

Charles had erased their relationship away, and he couldn’t even properly mourn the loss.

Charles jumped when Raven made a frustrated shout from across the hall, a loud thump following after. With a few loud, pointed stomps she was at his bedroom door, arms crossed and expression sour as she whined, “I need to get out of here. If I see one more box I’m going to tear out my hair.”

Charles carefully set down the towel he had been folding, gave Raven a fond smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and said, “I could use a drink.”


End file.
